


We survived 2017, let 2018 start with a bang and a roar

by Cibeeeee



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Flirting, M/M, Nigtmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibeeeee/pseuds/Cibeeeee
Summary: Mchanzo week hosted by Wyntera and Aughtpunk! A week to a new year, a new start to Mchanzo. May this year be the year we be kind to each otherPrompts:1-2-18 - Oh no, we have to share a bed…Two old men being tense about sleeping with other people1-3-18 - AUCollege AU with librarian McCree who have a crush on Hanzo and is simultaneously worried that Hanzo was going to pass out from overwork1-4-18 - Laundry/Chores in General“Woah,” Hana said, holding her hands up. “I do not want to know how hard you have to fuck to mess the kitchen up this bad.”1-5-18 - Car/Road TripDragons are tied to lightning and storms. What happens when Hanzo comes too close to it?1-6-18 - On the Job/MissionDon't you hate it when a mission can go from good to bad in a heartbeat1-7-18 - Date Night!Dates always end up with people trying to put each other into headlocks on the beach, right?1-8-18 - Home for the Holidays





	1. Oh no, we have to share a bed…

A new Overwatch, like any new and illegal group that tries to do good in the world, was practically broke. Overwatch was a long way from being a solvent organization, and Winston was only able to keep them all above water with donations from idealists who still believed in Overwatch and incomes, willingly given by some of the agents.

 

Hanzo understood that fully. He was a businessman before assassin. So he did not expect the temporary stay he and Agent McCree would be staying be anything but just passable.

 

McCree understood that, too. Even back in his time in Blackwatch, it wasn’t like they have got on the good side of the budget. Sharing a bed, a cot, a blanket was not out of the ordinary. Not that he didn’t prefer his own space, but who could complain to the good-hearted scientist? Even Hanzo kept to himself. McCree inspected the skin-tight, high-quality combat suit Hanzo was wearing and wondered what Hanzo thought about sleeping next to someone.  

 

At least the room was incredibly clean, Hanzo thought as he wiped his fingertip on the windowsill. There was no cracking paint or mold on the wall and ceiling. Sufficient air circulation. A direct escape route. The sleeping spot was out of any line of sight from nearby buildings. Hanzo drew the curtains shut anyways. He was satisfied with this safe house

 

It had been a long day. Fifteen hours of stakeout. No matter how guarded they felt about each other, Hanzo and McCree compensated one another, and between them, a mission that normally should have taken at least two days in a professional unit was done in fifteen hours. The target’s schedule, names and numbers of bodyguards, target’s attack code (ruby) and retreat code (sapphire)….

 

McCree’s train of thought was cut off when Hanzo turned on his datapad.

 

“We should report what we found now so we can rest,” Hanzo sat down on the left side of the mattress. McCree sat on the right. Hanzo kept up with McCree’s relaying information, which was impressive since McCree talked like a bullet. They finished the full report in under twenty minutes, and it was obvious Hanzo was itching to get into the washroom, so McCree let him have his go first.

 

When McCree finished with the washroom, Hanzo was already lying on the mattress. McCree gingerly climbed on. Despite being designed for two, the mattress was still barely managing to keep both of them on. They were stout men, a simple double size was not enough for them to keep from touching the other man somewhere, somehow. A toe. A hair. Their hips. Their hands. McCree resisted the childish urge to stack pillows between them and say “Stay on your _side_.” He tried to ignore the small part of his mind warning him that there is an intruder in his space. He tried to squash it down, but years in a gang and years in a military unit never trained his muscles from tensing in the animalistic reflex to _run_.

 

McCree squeezed his eyes, hoping to mollify the growing ache behind his eyes. You’ve done it before, you can do it now. McCree could feel Hanzo shuffling, and the telltale click of metal against tiles. McCree’s fingers brushed against Peacekeeper.

 

The clock reads 1:23 a.m.

 

* * *

 

1:54 a.m.

 

Hanzo woke with a jolt.

 

His first reaction was to grab the dagger he had underneath the mattress. A quick breath after, with McCree still softly asleep next to him, Hanzo relaxed, realizing it was only another of his nightmares he doesn’t remember.

 

He loosened his grip of the metal, and hoped he didn’t wake McCree. Though now the biggest problem was how the hell was Hanzo going back to sleep. Sleeping alone already took a herculean effort, and sleeping _alone_ was the only comfort Hanzo gets. With another person breathing and moving next to him, it made a difficult process nearly impossible. Without the sheer exhaustion from the mission to push him over the edge, now Hanzo was too awake to ignore McCree, and too tired to do anything about it. Hanzo shifted to his side, fingers finding the dagger again.

 

He wondered if McCree slept with weapons, too.

 

* * *

 

 

2:23 a.m.

 

McCree jolted awake. The image still fresh in his eyes. Damn nightmares, he stifled a groan, pressing the cool barrel of Peacekeeper across his forehead. Plaguing a man when he’s on edge already.

 

He hoped Hanzo didn’t wake up from that. The last thing he needed now was to look at those eyes that haunts his dreams already.

 

* * *

 

 

3:05 a.m.

 

Hanzo’s heart pounded heavily against his ribcage after a shiver that ran though McCree. The gunslinger’s back arched into Hanzo’s spin as he tried to curl into a ball. Hanzo’s back was damp – not from himself. McCree’s breathing was shaky and ragged.

 

Hanzo debated on turning. He wouldn’t want McCree to see him waking up from a nightmare, too.

 

* * *

 

 

3:36 a.m.

 

“McCree?”

 

McCree dug his fingers into his closed eyes. The dull pain had spread to his neck, every time he tried to calm himself enough for sleep, the pain would keep him from slipping completely. McCree sighed in defeat.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you all right?”

 

“I’m just peachy.”

 

He felt Hanzo turn. McCree tried to ignore the stare at the back of his head before giving up, turning as well, and meeting those dark eyes. McCree let out a low breath.

 

“I was having trouble sleeping, too,” Hanzo said.

 

McCree mumbled. “Space’s too damn small.”

 

Now they were both acutely aware of how carefully they were trying to keep a safe amount of space apart. Hanzo gripped the sheet between them. McCree bent his legs into Hanzo.

 

 _We’re making it small._ McCree thought. His vision starting to daze, but the headache shot pain behind his eyes. He groaned and pressed into his eyes again.

 

“I’m guessing you’re not feeling well.”

 

McCree opened to see Hanzo hesitating, his fingers ungrasping the sheet. He looked at McCree with caution, like he knew he shouldn’t be asking this, “May I?”

 

McCree nodded before he caught up on what was happening, lost in the way streetlights that peeked through the curtains cast shadows of Hanzo’s eyelashes. Then something covered his eyes. McCree’s hand snapped to it, only to touch the back of Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo’s palm was cool against McCree’s eyes, enough to dull the pain and not irritate it like the overwhelmingly bracing cold of Peacekeeper did.

 

Another hand sneaked to McCree’s nape, massaging gently. McCree breathing quickened, realizing that Hanzo had chosen to leave himself completely unguarded (to soothe McCree). McCree’s free hand was pressed under his body, gripping Peacekeeper with trembling hand, out of view.

 

“Does that feel better?” Hanzo asked.

 

It did – _it did_. McCree’s head finally stopped screaming in silent pain. He could finally think without the ache slowing him down. Hanzo’s hand still kept on McCree’s eyes, still pressing into spots on his neck enough to melt him.

 

McCree let go of his gun.

 

The space wasn’t too small anymore, once McCree wrapped his arm around Hanzo.  


	2. AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very tired, lots of errors I bet, feel free to point them out

Working in the school library came with a lot more perks than one would think. You were always guaranteed a seat no matter how crazy the midterm-slash-final weeks are. You can have a cup of coffee in the back room, and – if no supervisor is around – you can even sneak it into the front desk. You get to help people. You call dibs on all the books.

 

Okay, maybe McCree made the last one up, but he does snag books he really needed even if there was a queue. He normally finishes them in a day or two during late night study session at the library during after hours, alone and in peace, so it’s not like he’s making other students wait too long, right?

 

McCree liked his job at the university library. It was easy, and he gets to be surrounded by books. Which often come as a surprise to people who didn’t know him well, but McCree didn’t major in English and History because he thought it would land him somewhere good after graduation, solely because he _liked_ it.

 

His favorite part of the job, aside from talking to students (though he does like that), was returning books to their rightful places. It certainly was a tedious and slow work, but he loved the chance of accidentally finding gems in the return pile. During his first few weeks as the librarian, students would often find him lingering between bookshelves, caught in the middle of reading _Guide to Fairies, Gnomes and Other Little Fellas_ with an ardent focus with a cart of books next to him, forgotten. McCree remembered vividly when one time he was caught up in reading a random page in a random book again, someone came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, saying: “You should be doing your job.”

 

When McCree turned, he only saw the person’s back, sweatpants and college hoodie with the hood up. They came and left soundlessly, if not for the tap, McCree would have never noticed someone walked by. Like a ninja, McCree thought, put the book back sheepishly, and returned to his task.

 

So no, being a librarian wasn’t a boring job, at least not for McCree. He found new things to enjoy every day.

 

New things to distract him other than books. His body suddenly tensed and tingled as from the peripheral of his eyes, he saw a figure walk in and sat down at one of the window seats. It was also one of the seats that McCree could see directly and without interference from his desk.

 

 _Hanzo Shimada_ , McCree’s eyes went wide as he stared at the computer screen in front of him, every ounce of his will being used to not turn his eyes to the student which by now should be plugging in his laptop. After the laptop was boosted up, Hanzo should be fully concentrated on whatever work he was doing, and fully unaware of McCree’s gaze.

 

After waiting patiently for a few minutes, McCree slowly edged his eye to where Hanzo was sitting. Stealing a glance every now and then whenever Hanzo came was how McCree replenished his energy. Not just because of the stupid crush (McCree finally admits after two months of wistful staring), but also because Hanzo tended to stay late, _very late._ So late sometimes McCree thought Hanzo might have forgotten he needed rest to be a human.

 

Movement from the study area caught McCree’s attention. Hanzo left his seat and went into the maze of books. McCree wondered what he was looking for this time. Last time Hanzo checked out a book about some kind of math theory to which the name McCree cannot pronounce if his life depended on it. The time before that Hanzo checked out a book about cowboys in North America, which delighted McCree to no end, and the first time he worked up the courage to speak to Hanzo.

 

McCree recalled – he often thought about that exchange, how Hanzo’s eyes lit up when McCree asked about the book. How his voice was low and a little rough as he answered.

 

“I need this book for something,” Hanzo had said.

 

 _He needs the book for something_. McCree repeated in his head, so shocked at actually hearing Hanzo’s voice that he completely shuts down, missing the perfect cue for continuing the conversation. When his tongue stopped feeling weird, Hanzo had already left.

 

Hanzo returned the book two days later when McCree wasn’t working, and until this day McCree still did not know what Hanzo needed cowboy knowledge for, and now he felt too self-conscious to ask.

 

McCree stared between the shelves of books, trying to locate Hanzo. After some time, Hanzo appeared again, frowning while he flipped through a book.

 

Hanzo frowned through the night, and left the library with two books on International economy and three doctoral dissertations.

 

Hanzo came back the next day, same time, same sour expression. He returned all the books and dissertations, sat down in his usual seat before the afternoon crowd settled in. McCree watched as Hanzo moved back and forth from his laptop to the shelves, always furiously searching for something in the pages. McCree wanted to walk up, say hi, and offer his help so the stressful look on Hanzo’s face could go away.

 

But McCree had his own work to do, and before he was even close to done, Hanzo was in front of him again, arms full of books to check out and eyes almost drooping shut.

 

“You have them until May third,” McCree said, making sure Hanzo wasn’t going to drop anything.

 

Hanzo nodded, and left without a word. McCree stared after him, and dropped into his seat with a sigh.

 

This went on for three more days. Every afternoon, Hanzo would show up, study until nightfall, and leaves with arms full of books and dark circles more prominent each day. By the fourth night, McCree was seriously suspecting Hanzo would collapse on his way home – or dorm – or whatever. By 7 p.m., Hanzo’s forehead was almost touching the surface of the table, and his pen hung loosely between his fingers.

 

He was going to do it, McCree thought as he sat firmly behind the desk, ass stuck to the seat. No, he’ll do it. It was the perfect opportunity, the library was empty except for the two of them. McCree was going to _do it._

Hanzo stared up blearily at the sudden smell of coffee. McCree stood in front of his table, holding a mug, face red and mouth stretched to its maximum width.

 

“Hi,” McCree said. The trembling in his voice still palpable even with just one syllable.

 

“Hello,” Hanzo replied, eyes glued to the coffee in McCree’s hand.

 

“I thought you might need this,” McCree sat the mug down carefully away from any paper.

 

“I thought you are not supposed to have drinks in the library?”

 

“You’re not,” McCree grinned, his heart pounded no less hard than before, but at least his voice was stable now. “But I’m pretty sure you were going to pass out and that’ll get me into more trouble than a cup of coffee.”

 

Hanzo chuckled weakly. He took a small sip of the liquid caffeine and sighed like a swimmer catching their long, overdue breath.

 

“I think this actually just saved my life,” Hanzo said, taking another sip.

 

“Happy to help.” God, McCree couldn’t stop smiling. He wanted to flirt, to be smooth and sweep this incredibly handsome student off his feet and ask him out on a date, but all he could do now was smiling like he slept with a hanger in his mouth.

 

“Thank you, truly.” Hanzo put down the mug to offer his hand. “My name is Hanzo.”

 

McCree tried not to let it be obvious that he already knew that. Hanzo’s palm was pleasantly warm from the coffee, and his cheeks finally have some color back. “Jesse.”

 

Hanzo smiled. “Jesse,” he repeated, as though testing. “Thank you.”

 

McCree scratched the back of his neck, feeling the hot skin there and wondering what the hell was he gonna do now. Just as he was debating bidding Hanzo a reluctant goodbye and returning to his seat behind the desk, to just sneaking glances at Hanzo again, Hanzo spoke up.

 

“Why don’t you make another cup and join me here,” Hanzo gestured to the vacant seats. “I could use a break.”

 

McCree’s smile returned with the force of a hundred watt light, so bright Hanzo had to avert his eyes.   

 

Later, much later, after they’ve gone out for actual coffees and dinners and they’ve gone on dates to museums and to beaches, when they’re lying in Hanzo’s dorm, on the third night in a row where McCree slept over, they would mention the day they met. And Hanzo would admit he actually knew about McCree long before that. Hanzo first knew about him when he saw Jesse standing, lost in reading when he was supposed to be putting the books away. Hanzo tapped on McCree’s shoulder and told him to do his job so it wouldn’t seem too weird when Hanzo leaned in to sneak a look at McCree’s nametag. And that he checked out the book about cowboys because he hoped McCree would talk to him about it. And that he chose the seat by the window because Hanzo could see McCree directly and without interference from that spot.

 

And McCree would blush and stutter, after realizing Hanzo had a crush on him way before McCree’s crush even developed. Embarrassed that he never realize it, but, on the other hand, utterly besotted by the fact.

 

Hanzo would laugh and draw McCree out of his reverie, dropping kisses on his nose as they share a cup of coffee.    

 


	3. Laundry/ Chores in general

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little nsfw in this one, just a tad  
> I'm late with this one, I hope to get today's out before the 5th is over in the whole world lmao

“Junkrat did _what_?”

 

“Blew up the vacuum robot,” McCree said, handing the broom down to Hanzo. “Apparently he thought it looked evil.”

 

McCree carefully stepped off the ladder, holding another broom. Hanzo looked ready to argue, although McCree didn’t know why he thought there would be any use arguing with him. McCree wasn’t the one making any decisions on chores around here.

 

“Then isn’t it Junkrat’s responsibility to – ”

 

“They needed him on a mission,” McCree cut Hanzo off. “But the kitchen is still a mess, so I volunteered, and Genji volunteered you.”

 

Hanzo huffed through his nose. “Of course he did.”

 

The kitchen _was_ a mess. The leftover scraps of the robot still scattered around. Ashes and food mixed and spattered around. It was a wonder how such a small space and contain such a big mess. Where to even _start_?

 

Hanzo sighed. “We should clean up the food before they dry further.”

 

It was a shame technology came so far, in a strange way. Even for an organization as small and, to be honest, poor as the new Overwatch, most chores on base were still handled by machines. Laundry was automatic. Vacuuming was done by bot. Dishes in the dishwasher. The only real chores agents had to do was the tidiness of their own living quarters. No one thought of a contingency plan for when technology fails them. Leaving them to realize there was no old model vacuum cleaners on base, only ridiculously old broomsticks.

 

“Pretty sure these were Halloween props, too,” McCree remarked.

 

“Lovely,” Hanzo replied as he tried his best to clean a particularly stubborn pile of milk – batter – screws– metal plates that stuck to the floor.

 

“Shit,” McCree said.

 

“That does not sound good,” Hanzo replied without looking.

 

“Some of it is on the ceiling too.”

 

Hanzo glanced up, and sure enough, it was splattered with various food, liquid and things Hanzo thought it was best left unknown.

 

“I’ll go get a ladder,” McCree said cheerfully.

 

He didn’t stop his cleaning, but Hanzo’s eyes followed McCree as the man walked out, humming something pleasant. Hanzo wondered how McCree could be so chipper about cleaning up after people. When McCree showed up at Hanzo’s door this morning, smiling and informing him that they have been chosen to clean up the aftermath of another Junker-related catastrophe. Hanzo had been scowling and frowning since the morning, while McCree looked as though the sun has personally come down to give him a kiss.

 

Hanzo heard McCree before he saw him, spurs and whistling and heavy footsteps. Hanzo rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead to get rid of some of the sweat, and tried not to think about why McCree’s presence was always louder than anyone else’s to Hanzo.  

 

“Did Junkrat blew up the air conditioner while he was at it as well?” Hanzo grumbled.

 

McCree chuckled, setting the ladder down before going to open the window. A gush of breeze immediately drifted in. Hanzo stood, deciding to cool down before cleaning again.

 

Only he was stopped in his track when someone pressed up against him from behind. A big, warm hand covered Hanzo’s, taking the broom in his hand away. Another hand cupped Hanzo’s waist.

 

Hanzo turned his head slightly to meet McCree’s smiling eyes. McCree stepped back. Hanzo followed, placing his hand on his own waist, over McCree’s grip.

 

“I didn’t know cleaning puts you in the mood for dancing,” Hanzo arched an eyebrow.

 

“It ain’t the cleaning that is putting me in the mood, sweet pea,” McCree purred. “Being with you, even if it’s doing chores, makes me happy.”

 

Hanzo glanced away. “Jesse….”

 

“Come on, Hanzo,” McCree nuzzled at Hanzo’s neck despite the sweat that covered the skin. “We are great together, why would we stop?”

 

“Because we agreed it was a one-time thing,” Hanzo said. McCree continued leading him in small steps, fingers intertwined. “I thought…we agreed that this wouldn’t be good for the team.”

 

McCree hummed. “I’m having second thoughts.”

 

Hanzo laughed deeply. “Are you now?”

 

McCree nodded into Hanzo’s hair. “I can’t stop thinking about you….”

 

It would be so easy for Hanzo to turn just a little more and meet McCree’s waiting lips. Those chapped and warm lips. Gentle moans that haunted Hanzo’s mind ever since that one night three weeks ago. He wasn’t adamant about refusing McCree, and McCree knew that.

 

Hanzo nipped at McCree’s top lip, short, quick, and biting. McCree’s arms were around Hanzo in a heartbeat, but Hanzo slipped out just as quick.

 

“We should clean,” Hanzo said with a teasing look. McCree stumbled where he stood.

 

“Fine,” McCree said, and his face told Hanzo he wasn’t done with him.

 

_Good_ , Hanzo thought. He wasn’t done with McCree either.

 

They decided to clean the ceiling first. McCree climbed up while Hanzo held the ladder still.

 

“What the hell is this?” McCree said as he attempted to scrap the remnants off. “I swore some of these are alive–”

 

McCree’s body jolted violently and he dropped his rag. Both hands a deadly grip on the ladder, McCree looked down and met Hanzo’s eyes.

 

Hanzo was busy unzipping McCree’s jeans with his teeth, but still managed to keep a steady gaze, peeking from under his lashes.

 

“Good Lord,” McCree wheezed, afraid of moving in case of an accident, but that meant he was at Hanzo’s mercy, which, from the look on Hanzo’s face, that was exactly what Hanzo wanted. “What if someone comes in–”

 

Hanzo did not answer, and McCree did not finish his sentence as the archer started mouthing at McCree’s cock, wetting it through the fabric. McCree’s thighs trembled as he struggled to control the urge to shove forward.

 

Just when Hanzo was doing something wonderful with his tongue, the door to the kitchen flew open and McCree let out an undignified yelp, right before he lost his footings and fell right off the.

 

McCree braced himself for impact with hard surfaces, but instead he fell into something soft and warm. He opened his eyes and saw Hanzo.

 

“Are you all right?” Hanzo asked, not a hair out of place even though he just caught McCree, a six foot one man that weighed probably close to a small tree, in his arms.

 

Hana stood in the doorway, hair in disarray and eyes wide, glancing around the kitchen before settling on McCree and Hanzo.

 

“Is my pants still down?” McCree whispered.

 

“It is, but she may not notice from there,” Hanzo whispered back.

 

“Woah,” Hana said, holding her hands up. “I do not want to know how hard you have to fuck to mess the kitchen up this bad.”

 

McCree covered his face with his hands. Hanzo did not have that luxury, seeing that he still had an armful of cowboy.

 

“Look, I’m just here to get my coffee,” Hana said, moving with her back against the wall toward the refrigerator. “I’ll leave you two to your…whatever business in a sec.”

 

True to her words, Hana grabbed a bottle of coffee and bolted out the kitchen, slamming the door on her way out. Hanzo and McCree remained where they were.

 

“Fuck this,” McCree said. “Back to yours?”

 

Hanzo nodded, without any intention of putting McCree down. “Back to mine.”


	4. Car/Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of sex, but no description

“How long is the drive?”

 

McCree thought about it for a second. “Pretty short. About six hours.”

 

Hanzo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “Only you Americans will say six hours is a short drive.”

 

“We are in a big country,” McCree laughed. The road at this time was practically empty, so he let auto-drive guide them through the scenic countryside of Utah. Rows of red mountains in the far view and brown, dry bushes by their sides. If McCree pressed his palm to the window, he could feel the heat of the desert. They only have a few hours of light and even less until the temperature dropped. He could see rain cloud to the east, sheets of rain falling down with the occasional lightning.

 

The first time they saw lightning in the distance since they started their little trip, McCree was enamored by it. He remembered seeing them like this, far and safe when he was still active in America, but not since he joined Overwatch. Although McCree’s fascination didn’t even come close to how big of a reaction Hanzo, out of all people, had.

 

Before the lightning struck down, Hanzo bolted up in his seat. McCree’s hand went to Peacekeeper immediately, he had thought Hanzo saw a threat. But the archer just sat there, back straight like a rod and taut like a bowstring, eyes fixed in the distant rain cloud.

 

When the lightning struck, McCree could see the hair on the back of Hanzo’s neck stood up, but he was then quickly distracted by the glow of Hanzo’s tattoo. Dragons rising from his skin. Small electrical statics flashed so bright McCree worried the car might burn up.  

 

Hanzo was restless after that. Even if the dragons had sunk back into him. Hanzo was filled with a jittery energy, and the six hours of them stuck in the car wasn’t going to help much. Now, every time Hanzo’s body seized up slightly, McCree knew somewhere around them, a lightning was coming. It made for good indication to know when to look up.

 

“Am I just a lightning detector to you?” Hanzo grumbled.

 

“Only for the next six hours, sug,” McCree said. “During the night it would be more frequent, too.”

 

Hanzo sighed and pressed his forehead to the window, legs jittering. McCree put a hand on his thigh the steady it, rubbing soothingly.

 

“Does it actually bothers you that much?”

 

“No, it’s just…” Hanzo took a deep breath. “It makes me antsy. I don’t come across them this often, and usually I just kill people to get rid of the energy.” Hanzo waved his hand at the window, at the rows of sand hills and mountains, “But as you see, there’s no enemy to kill right now.”

 

The car slowed as they passed through a residential area. A sign caught McCree’s attention.

 

“Want to get some pie?” McCree asked, but was already pulling over.

 

“Pie?”

 

“Look, the sign says it’s the oldest pie shop in town,” McCree said. “Town”, being the one gas station, two houses, a church down the road, and of course, the pie shop. “Family business, too. Let’s go stretch our legs.”

 

Hanzo seemed to have no problem with that. He was out of the car before McCree was fully parked. The heat outside was mixed with a moist heaviness that clung to the air. Hanzo looked like he could feel more in the air than just the heat and the rain. He sunk into McCree’s side, and McCree wrapped a supporting arm around him. He could feel static emitting from Hanzo, crawling across him to McCree like a vague, tingling bug.

 

Hanzo buried his nose into the crook of McCree’s neck. “Let’s go in.”

 

Only one table was occupied. Hanzo sat down at one of the window seats, obviously leaving the socializing and ordering to McCree.

 

The effects were significantly less indoor. When McCree brought back two pieces of pumpkin and apricot pie, Hanzo looked relaxed, eyes closed. McCree smiled as he slid into the seat across from Hanzo. Hanzo cracked an eye open and gave McCree a disapproving look.

 

“What?” McCree asked.

 

“Why are you there?” Hanzo replied.

 

“There, as in…?”

 

“Come sit next to me.”

 

McCree’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, okay.”

 

The moment McCree joined him on his side of the bench, Hanzo latched onto McCree, resuming his position before with his face buried in McCree’s shoulder.

 

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’re not usually like this.” _You’re never like this_. McCree thought, but instead of saying that, he broke a small piece of the apricot pie and put it near Hanzo’s mouth. “Here, have a bite.”

 

Hanzo opened his mouth and took the pastry in without protest. Now McCree was truly puzzled. Under normal circumstances, Hanzo would never have let McCree fed Hanzo – or do anything that Hanzo could do himself – and especially in public. Not that there was anyone in the shop that was looking.

 

“Han, sweet pea,” McCree cupped Hanzo’s chin and made him look up. Hanzo was smiling dopily, like he was drunk. McCree brushed some crumbs off, smiling back. “Hi there, are you really fine? You’re acting weird.”

 

Hanzo shook his head. “I honestly do not know.” Then he leaned forward, practically fell onto McCree’s lips. McCree caught the man and felt his lips numb from the kiss.

 

“I think it’s the lightning,” Hanzo whispered, lips still connecting with McCree’s. Biting. Licking. Hanzo’s arms wrapped around McCree’s shoulders. “I think they’re too close.”

 

McCree dazedly kissed back. The kiss making his head spin, like drowning, like fireworks, like _lightning_.

 

“You really think pie was going to calm me?” Hanzo said. His tongue darting into McCree’s mouth, vying for dominance. “I need something that’s _stronger_.”

 

McCree groaned into the kiss. He broke away just long enough to ask the shop owner to put their pies in a takeaway box.

 

The storm was getting closer, or rather, they were driving in the direction of the storm. Hanzo’s hands gripped McCree’s until it was clear he didn’t want to hold back anymore.

 

They stopped at the side of the road. Miles to and from their destination there was no car, no people, no soul in sight. The rain silently crept closer. Hanzo’s mouth moved down McCree’s body.

 

When they were done, when Hanzo was done, they were breathless and burning, sore from the sex and the cramped space. But the tension in Hanzo’s skin finally gave away to exhaustion. The sky above them black, with stars littered across the void. The storm cloud, now miles behind them, taking the electricity in the air with them.

 

The sweat that clung to their skin was cooling rapidly, and they were nowhere near their scheduled destination and subsequently, the promises of a shower and a bed. Hanzo dropped his face to McCree’s chest, grumbling.

 

“I apologize,” Hanzo’s breath was tickling McCree’s chest hair. “I didn’t know that would happen.”

 

“Relax, sweet pea. It was good.” McCree combed through Hanzo’s tangled hair, brushing them out. “This was supposed to be a spontaneous trip, right? Roll with it.”

 

“Should we keep driving?”

 

“We’re both tired…”

 

In the end, they crawled into the backseat together. McCree’s serape covering them, and their arms around each other, hoping they won’t find the other person accidentally rolled onto the floor during the night.

 

The rear window provided a small piece of the sky to view. The Big Dipper looked somehow daunting. Too big. Too close. Like it was falling down on them. McCree shifted so Hanzo wasn’t pressing directly on his chest. Hanzo sighed deeply.

 

“You all right?”

 

“I am fine, Jesse,” Hanzo replied. “I’m just….”

 

Hanzo kissed him, staying there. The stars moved above them, and their kiss continued.


	5. On the Job/Mission

“Who has the enemy in their sights?”

 

Satya’s voice rang in, “They just appeared on Wesley Street. Heading toward Agent Mercy.”

 

“Copy that,” Angela said. “McCree and I are in position. Hanzo?”

 

“Ready,” Hanzo replied, arrow nocked and drawn.

 

“Okay folks,” Hana said. “Ready your guns and arrows. Enemy ETA two minutes. They have two big robots, but we have me, so let’s go!”

 

McCree’s chuckled into the comm. “I see them. I also see the backpack. D.Va, your target is the third one in the back, eyes?”

 

“See it! Waiting for your command.”

 

“Counting down,” Angela’s voice was tight. The instinctive response of the medic. “Five, four, three, two, one. Go.”

 

From Hanzo’s position on top of one of the vacated building, a green and pink object bolted out of its hiding from below and straight toward the enemies. D.Va’s mech tore through them, Defense Matrix eating away all heavy attacks. McCree and Angela flanking the group, drawing any enemy that was stupid enough to leave their formation to where Satya had set up her turrets. Within minutes, half the enemies were down, the other half desperately guarding the smuggled artifact. D.Va groaned.

 

“I can’t get past these people!”

 

“Wait,” Hanzo said, and activated his eyepiece. A new gadget Satya developed for him. It essentially was a sniper scope, but tweaked specially for an archer. Enhancing the range of sonic arrows. Zooming in on targets. Calculating scatter arrow's path, though Hanzo preferred to do the last one himself.

 

Now, he was zooming it in on the backpack. He could see it every now and then between shoulders and heads. The enemy was guarding it tightly, but not enough. Hanzo studied their movement, counting the most likely timing.  

 

Hanzo jumped down to a balcony to get a lower vantage point and drew an arrow. “Wait for it, Hana. Pay attention.”

 

“Oh God,” Hana said. “Okay, go for it.”

 

Hanzo took a deep breath. Focusing on the target, and calculating the landing point, making sure no teammate was in his path, waiting for the opening. Counting.

 

Hanzo fired his arrow. It flew past between two mercenary’s head, into the handle loop of the backpack, and tearing it from the keeper. D.Va surged forward, taking advantage of a moment of confusion in the enemies.

 

“Got it!” She shouted. The mech flew up to avoid enemy fire. The backpack dangling dangerously on one of the guns. “Someone take it from me!”

 

She managed to swirl around, swinging the pack so it hurled toward Satya on a different building roof. Satya caught it and immediately threw it through her teleporter. “Target safe,” she said. “I repeat, target safe!”

 

“Whoohoo!” Hana screamed. “Another win for Team D.Va and Hanzo!”  

 

“You always give me a heart attack with that, Han,” McCree said breathlessly. “That artifact is two thousand years old. Not that I don’t have faith in your aiming.”  

 

“Was it not in a bulletproof safe?” Hanzo casually replied.

 

“We need to fall back,” Angela said. “Don’t risk more damage. The mission is done –”

 

“I’m readying scatter arrow to buy you time,” Hanzo said. “Everyone get out of my way.”

 

“Bossy,” McCree teased.

 

“You have the green light, Ha –” Angela said. And Hanzo realized his mistake as soon as the arrow left his finger.

 

“Wait – ” D.Va said.

 

A loud crash. D.Va’s mech had given out. The young soldier ejected herself midair, and plummeted directly down to the enemy, and straight into the scatter arrow’s path.

 

It was like time had stopped. All Hanzo could see was his arrow, ready to split, and Hana, curling up to shield herself. Mercy flew up, wishing to reach Hana in time. But then they will both be hit – and it’ll be on Hanzo’s hands again – the arrows were flying in every direction now –

 

Gunshots broke his stupor. In a heartbeat, every single arrow snapped. Hanzo had never been so relieved to see his arrows falling uselessly to the ground. The enemies were retreating. Hana dropped into Mercy’s arms, and they glided to safety.

 

Hanzo looked past all this to McCree. The gunslinger covered his right eye with one hand, slumped on the sidewalk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

McCree opened his eyes to see Hanzo walking toward him. He smiled when Hanzo practically crawled onto him. The plane seats were definitely too small for McCree to lie on, and adding one grown man certainly made it much harder, but he didn’t want to move, content with holding onto Hanzo.

 

“How’s Hana?”

 

Hanzo buried his face in McCree’s chest. They were in the very back part of the transport plane, hopefully it stays empty. “She is fine.”

 

“That’s good…”

 

“Jesse,” Hanzo said. His voice thick.

 

“Yes, hon?”

 

Hanzo did not reply. His whole body was tense. McCree tightened his hold on him.

 

“Don’t you go blame yourself,” McCree said. “ _Don’t_.”

 

“I know injuries are a risk, doing what we do,” Hanzo murmured. “I supposed I never consider that some of the injuries might come from…”

 

“I was an accident. Hell, it was bad timing. And none of that was under your control.”

 

“If it wasn’t for you…” Hanzo continued. “God, Jesse, if it wasn’t for you….”

 

McCree combed through Hanzo’s hair. “I know, Hanzo,” McCree said, the image of what could have happened flashed through his mind, and he just knew Hanzo had been torturing himself with the same _what ifs_ ever since they got to safety. “I know.”

 

Hanzo sighed into McCree’s chest. This was why he preferred to work alone, without attachments, without teams.

 

But – as McCree dropped a kiss on Hanzo’s crown, and his hand rubbed soothing circles on Hanzo’s back, Hanzo knew he could continue, fear and all, as long as McCree was by his side.


	6. Date Night

Winston was not particularly bothered by McCree and Hanzo’s decision to ditch the weekly report in favor of a dinner out in town since, there was nothing to report about that week. He only reminded them to remember submitting their outing permit to Athena before leaving base. Although Winston wasn’t sure the two had heard him, running out his office like a couple of teenagers. Satya passed by them on her way to see Winston, and gave the scientist a questioning look.

 

Winston shook his head, “It’s their first date. Can’t blame them for being excited, I suppose.”

 

Satya exhaled out of her nose, which everyone now recognized as Satya’s way of laughing. It was somehow a more vapid way of laughing than Hanzo’s, though the archer had taken up to laughing with actual sounds more and more since he and McCree started becoming a _thing_.

 

“I am happy for them,” Satya said with the flattest tone ever heard in mankind’s history. “It certainly is overdue.”

 

“You don’t sound very excited,” Winston said.

 

“I do not partake in this kind of trivial matter.”

 

From above, Athena informed helpfully, “Agent Symmetra, did you not spend the majority of this morning helping Agent Hanzo pick his outfit for tonight?”

 

Winston looked over at Satya in amusement. Satya coughed, hiding her lower face behind her tablet.

 

“I think we should start working, shall we?” Satya said, putting on a serious face.

 

Winston laughed, pushing his glasses up. “Yes, let’s.”

 

Halfway across the base, at the same time, McCree was waiting just outside of Hanzo’s door. He checked his hair (freshly washed, combed back) and teeth (sparkling clean and minty fresh) in the distorted reflection of the metal door.

 

Just when he was making sure there was nothing in the corners of his eyes, the door opened and McCree snapped back, back straight and charming smile plastered on his face as though just two seconds ago he wasn’t fidgeting in front of Hanzo’s door.

 

Hanzo smiled when he met McCree’s eyes, closing the door behind him. He was wearing a handsome suit. A fitting dark blue vest with subtle gold patterns, shimmering slightly only under certain angles. Hanzo had his suit coat folded neatly over his arm, and his hair in a low ponytail. McCree stared.

 

“Jesse?” Hanzo asked. “Did you hear what I said?”

 

“Huh?” McCree said. “Sorry sweetheart, I was…distracted.”

 

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of Hanzo’s lips as they walked down the hall. “I noticed. I was just saying you look very handsome.”

 

“Oh,” McCree chuckled, thinking how was anyone looking handsome possible standing next to Hanzo. “Thank you. You look, very handsome too.”

 

The smirk finally found its way fully onto Hanzo’s face. “I know.”

 

Hanzo beat McCree to the car and opened the door for him. The drive into town was filled with comfortable silence and high-strung anticipation, if that was possible. The restaurant was just right, fancy enough to show that this was an important occasion, but not to the point of flashy. There was good wine, good food, and good company. Hanzo and McCree flirted for the whole first ten minutes before they started laughing. McCree couldn’t keep his hand to himself, always touching Hanzo’s hand, hair, or gently brushing his lips. Hanzo knew the implication, and he knew it was adding the anticipation. He retaliated by gliding his foot up McCree’s thigh and kneading slightly. If McCree dropping his fork and causing the whole restaurant to look over wasn’t worth it enough, the blush on his face certainly was.

 

The dinner ended with both of them flushed with alcohol and multiple almost-kisses. Months of dancing around each other were fun, but tonight it meant something. Tonight it was leading somewhere.

 

It was only ten p.m. when they left the restaurant. Too early for them to want to call it a night. McCree said something about sands; Hanzo said something about moonlight, and that’s how they ended up on the beach. It was empty save for a few other people. They took their shoes and socks off. McCree wiggled his toes in the sands.

 

Somehow, like all dates, they ended up arguing about which was the best way to get out of a headlock. Hanzo insisted that throwing someone over the shoulder was the best option, while McCree thought stabbing the person with his spurs was a far better choice.

 

Hanzo tried to retort in between wandering hands. They were sitting on the edge of the water and the waves were tickling their toes every now and then. Hanzo laughed when McCree nuzzled his neck.

 

“Well, Jesse,” Hanzo said. “Not everyone walks around with spurs, and that puts a dent in your argument.”

 

“And I’m saying everyone should walk around with spurs,” McCree pressed his body to Hanzo’s.

 

“I think, if you don’t have your spurs, you wouldn’t know how to get out of a headlock.”

 

McCree drew back, one of his eyebrows arched high as he looked at Hanzo with amusement. “That’s what you think, huh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I could get out a damn headlock any time of the day.”

 

“All talk, no action.”

 

McCree suddenly snapped his arms tight around Hanzo’s waist, pulling the man flush to him. Hanzo let out a low gasp. Their chest pressed together, heartbeat so prominent there was no way of telling them apart.

 

“I can show you if you want.”

 

Hanzo stared at McCree’s mouth shamelessly. “I like to see you try.”

 

So there they were. On the edge of the sea, facing each other. Hanzo took off his vest, and dropped it with his jacket on the sand. McCree’s coat soon joined. They stood in the chill of the night and ocean winds in just their shirt and dress pants, neither could feel the cold.

 

Hanzo moved forward, and McCree stepped back to remain distant. Hanzo gave McCree a look. McCree chuckled, holding his hands out.

 

“You gotta try and put me in a headlock first, honey,” McCree said, hip cock to one side. McCree always has a lofty attitude about him when he fights, Hanzo has seen this during missions and trainings before, and it turned Hanzo on more than he would admit to anyone.

 

McCree gave Hanzo a grin, teeth and all. His neatly combed hair ruffled by the ocean breeze. “Come on, partner. I’m waiting.”

 

Hanzo took a few moments more to appreciate McCree, before bolting into McCree’s space. McCree wasn’t quick enough to retreat completely, but enough to block Hanzo’s jab. Hanzo faked a straight and immediately ducked down to sneak a hand behind McCree and – squeezed his ass.

 

McCree yelped and Hanzo laughed, receiving a light smack to his shoulder.

  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that during any fights,” McCree said, moving forward to give Hanzo another smack, but the other man stepped back, still laughing. “Quit laughing!”

 

McCree continued to try and get to Hanzo, and Hanzo continued his backward steps. Eventually McCree surprised him with a big jump forward, tackling Hanzo to the sand. They went down, yelling. McCree wiggled his hands under Hanzo, digging into the sands and finally getting his revenge. Hanzo cursed out when McCree squeezed his ass.

 

“Now we’re even,” McCree said, propping up onto his elbow.

 

Hanzo brushed some of the sands off of his face. His hands moved to McCree’s back, and stayed. There were stars behind McCree, though Hanzo saw none but the man before him.

 

He pulled McCree down. McCree moaned into the kiss, rough and low. They tasted salty like the sea, and warm like wine. McCree lifted Hanzo up from the sand, a palm cradling the back of his head and the other cupping his cheek. They sat up, still kissing, no amount of sands in their shirts and pants could stop them.

 

“Why did we wait so long to do this?” Hanzo murmured into the kiss.

 

“Because we are stupid, stupid men,” McCree replied. Hanzo silenced him again.

 

They had to drive home without shoes or coats – they didn’t realize how far the tide had come in until a cold splash of waves shocked them out of their felicity. Athena remarked on their lack of shoes when they got back, and promised to keep it a secret between the three of them.

 

McCree walked Hanzo to his room, determined to be the gentlemen he wanted to be for Hanzo. Hanzo smiled, reached up to shake more sands out of McCree’s hair. McCree closed his eyes and laughed.

 

“I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?” Hanzo said.

 

“Definitely,” McCree said, leaning down to kiss Hanzo once more. “It’s a date.”  

 


	7. Home For the Holiday

There was a letter on his table.

 

Hanzo knew it was a letter – he wrote it one night when he had too much booze and not enough food for his body and mind to handle it. Why it was on his table, was his question. He remembered stowing it away the next morning he wrote it, silently embarrassed and angered at himself with his slip of restraint. He had been doing so well for almost four months, and that letter just reminded him that Hanzo was only lying to himself, like always.

 

That stupid, white glare of a letter stinging his eyes. Hanzo took hold of it and shoved it under his mattress this time. _Stay there, you sentient piece of crap._

Genji’s arrival outside of his door sufficiently took Hanzo’s mind off of…his brother’s knocking grew louder the second time around, his face was scrunched up when Hanzo opened.

 

“Don’t I deserve a quicker response than this?”

 

Hanzo shut the door behind him. “I was teaching you patience.”

 

“You of all people would know about patience,” Genji retorted, but quickly added, “Was that a low blow? You look like you’re mad, but you always look like you’re mad. Are you mad?”

 

“I am fine, Genji,” Hanzo said dryly. “This is how my face looks.”

 

Genji shrugged. His lips twitched into a smile. “Just want to make sure you’re all right.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be –”

 

“Have to talk to Jesse?”

 

“Not since the last mission report.”

 

“That’s four months ago.”

 

“I am aware of that.”

 

“You didn’t call him? Not once, in four months?”

 

“Were you not there during the report?” Hanzo snapped. His mind frayed, and his heart, if he let this conversation continue, might be too. “No contact unless emergency. Unless you call the kitchen getting set on fire because Jamison wanted to roast pork on the stove an emergency, I don’t see why I would have the need to contact him.”

 

Genji considered himself lucky in the regard that, Hanzo was incredibly rude but chatty when speaking in Japanese, and that made talking to Hanzo easier for Genji because, he _shared_ that trait. But every once in a while, when Hanzo was in an especially egregious mood, it meant he was snarkier with each word, if people allow Hanzo to stay in this zone past ten minutes, by the end of the day it would be a miracle if anyone survives his wrath.

 

“Why don’t we go and get the decoration first?” Genji pointed to the storage, changing the subject forcibly only for Hanzo’s sake. “I think they started the cleaning before Zarya and Reinhardt bring back the tree. We’ll save some time this way.”

 

Hanzo did not reply, but followed Genji.

 

When they arrived at the common room, boxes of Christmas decoration in their arms, the tree was already in place. The brothers could smell the strong scent of pine from the hall outside, but the actual size of the tree still started them a little.

 

“I think you two outdone yourself this year,” Hanzo remarked when Reinhardt came over to help them with the boxes.

 

The man boomed with laughter. “Zarya insists on a tree so big it would take both of us _and_ the workers at the shop to carry!”

 

Zarya clapped Hanzo on the back, out of nowhere. Hanzo managed to not drop all the decoration from the force of Zarya’s little pat on the back. “Of course,” she said. “It is very important! Since – ”

 

Hana and Angela screamed right then. They all turn to see the doctor holding a family size soda, bubbling over and drenching the floor with sickly sweet liquid.

 

“My god, I’m very sorry,” Angela looked at her hands in distress.

 

“It’s all right,” Hana said. “Zarya, can you come help us?”

 

Zarya rushed to get a mop. Hanzo turned back to Genji, who was wearing an amused expression.

 

“We haven’t even started decorating, and it’s already a mess,” Hanzo said.

 

“That’s why they needed everyone’s help,” Genji said. “Come on, brother, cheer up! It’s Christmas’s Eve, we all should be glad that everyone could get back in time to warrant a party.”

 

Hanzo said nothing at that, finally setting the boxes down and opening them.

 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he replied.

 

It was truly a sight to behold when they finished decorating. No matter how big the tree was, with nearly twenty excited people plus Hanzo putting their minds to it, it was shining like a multicolor sun by the evening. Socks, lights and small Christmas towns were scattered around the other parts of the room. Food was finally brought out, ordered from a restaurant in town since people who could cook had no time, and people who had time had no skills. The turkey was a little dry, and the pumpkin pie tasted insipid, but the stuffing and ham was a delicious surprise.

 

Everyone walked around, glasses of wine, soda or water in hand, talking, playing games, watching movies. Hanzo was in the middle of a particular belligerent game of Monopoly when a wave of overbearing tightness in his throat suffocated him, sending his hand to his chest, digging a thumb into the flesh there. Next to him, Satya hovered her hand on the small of Hanzo’s back. Across him, Zenyatta’s orbs swirled in alarm.

 

“Hanzo, are you okay?” Mei asked tentatively. “You don’t have to pay me the rent if you don’t want to.”  

 

Hanzo shook his head. His head pounded with every single little noise around him. He forced himself to speak, “Apologies. How much do I pay to pay?”

 

He would make it through tonight. He had made it through seven months, a holiday won’t be the thing that breaks him.

 

….

 

“Are you sure, Hanzo?”

 

“Yes,” Hanzo said. But Lena still looked unsure at the disastrous aftermath of the party. “I had some coffee with Soldier and you know how strong he makes those things. I would rather clean up until I am tired enough to rest.”

 

Lena lingered by his side, she was the only one left in the common room beside Hanzo. Most normal souls with limited energy had long gone to rest. Hanzo wanted to be alone, but he did not want to face his empty room alone, so he opted to reside in the debris of companies, at least for a little while.

 

Lena wanted to protest more, got cut off by Emily poking her head in.

 

“Hon, are you coming?”

 

“Yes, she is,” Hanzo answered for Lena, and guided her to Emily. “You both had a long day, have a good rest.”

 

Emily took Lena’s hand in hers and smiled at Hanzo. “Thank you, Mr. Shimada,” she said.

 

Lena was still frowning, but a look from Emily assuaged her. She sighed.

 

“Merry Christmas, Hanzo,” Lena said.

 

Hanzo closed the door gently after them, hating her at that moment.

 

The groan he let out when he collapsed on the couch could be described as relieved or pained, Hanzo could not describe. Finally it was quiet.

 

Hanzo leaned his elbows on his knees, hands rubbing the bridge of his nose. The lights were off, only the fairy lights on the tree remained. It was blissfully melancholy. Finally, he allowed himself to seek comfort in the weakness of solitude.

 

God knew how long he just sat there, too tired to fulfill the promise of cleaning. The metal was ice cold against his cheek, his skin never seemed to warm it up.

 

Just when he was drifting to sleep, Hanzo heard a slight movement behind him. He sighed. He was so tired, and was not in the mood for brainless intruders who decided to sneak in on Christmas Day. Hanzo relaxed his hand, reaching between the cushions of the couch, tightened around a small handgun.

 

“Hanzo?”

 

Thank whichever wise soul that put the gun there to also remember the safety, or else down the couch would have been decorated with a new hole from Hanzo accidentally squeezing the trigger in shock. He whipped around.

 

There, he stood. Like a ghost against the blurry blue of the room. Flannel, jeans, hat squeezed against his chest, boots, no spurs. _No spurs._

Hanzo stood up, facing McCree. For the first time in seven months, he wanted to shout or cry as vociferous, as unruly as his lungs would allow him. But all that managed past the tight confines of his throat was a small, shaky breath.

 

Eventually, “Jesse?”

 

That seemed to be the magic word. McCree was set in motion, flinging himself at Hanzo and crushing every drop of tears out of them. Hanzo tried to breathe, but all he could do was swallow salty waters so he won’t choke on them.

 

“I got your letter,” McCree said. “Sweetheart, God, Hanzo….”

 

“What?” Hanzo laughed. McCree sniffled loudly. “What letter?”

 

McCree let go of Hanzo, kept hold of his left hand, and reached into his front pocket for a piece of paper all too familiar, which for all Hanzo knew, should be stuffed under his mattress.

 

“How?” Hanzo touched the paper, wrinkled from being read, folded, and lovingly smoothed out. “I did not send it.”

 

McCree laughed. “No, you did not. Genji did.”

 

That made Hanzo bristled, his hand squeezed McCree’s tightly. McCree only laughed, and brought it up to give Hanzo’s hand tear-stained kisses.

 

“I just saw it in my room this mor – last morning,” Hanzo insisted.

 

“We can ask him later, yeah?” McCree carefully put the letter away.

 

“So you’re staying until later?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you’re leaving when…?”

 

McCree’s legs gave out. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s torso. Hanzo’s fingers combed through McCree’s hair, the metal band on his ring finger stood out starkly. McCree kissed Hanzo’s stomach lightly, making the archer laugh before dragging him down to the floor with him.

 

“No, no. I’m done.”

 

Hanzo dropped his forehead to McCree’s shoulder, arms tightened. “What?”

 

“The mission’s over. I’m back. It’ll take two terrorist threats now to pry me away from you again.”

 

“Do not jinx it.”

 

“Sorry, sorry….”

 

Hanzo lifted his face, sore from scrunching up in disbelief. McCree hadn’t stopped smiling. He was more handsome than Hanzo had ever remembered.

 

“Jesse.” Hanzo cupped his husband’s face. For a daunting moment, the world seemed to pause for Hanzo, trying to convince himself this was real, and he will not blink and all was left was a pair of cold hands and a single heartbeat.

 

The same fear settled in McCree’s eyes. His hand reached to his chest, heard the letter there scrunched underneath his fingers. The words on the letter, written like a mantra on McCree’s heart ever since he read it: _I am a selfish man. I want you home._    

 

McCree’s lips found Hanzo’s. They melted together. From the kiss into their mind was the heartrending ache of longingness, and that was the most real thing they’ve felt.

 

Hanzo pushed into the kiss. They wrapped around each other. Finally, the ache in their chest subdued. McCree’s lips were warm and dry. Hanzo remedied that quickly.    

 

McCree pulled back. Not for long. Hanzo caressed his knuckles across McCree’s cheek. McCree chuckled softly at that. Hanzo couldn’t help but kiss him again.

 

The room was still in disarray around them. Hanzo paid it no mind.

 

For now, McCree felt like home.

 


End file.
